I Get A Kick Outta You
by La La Leesh
Summary: here is my contributon to the world of Luigi and Daisy fluff. It's basically just a multi chaptered story about them, but don't let that scare you.


**Okay, so I look like the world's biggest sap EVER! My second strictly fluff story, and even the oh so action packed Vendetta has enough sap scenes to make any hater of valentines day cringe. I promise something differeny is coming in the future, and something nice and gory too, Oh how I promise…I just probably won't get around to it any day soon!**

**If you don't like this don't complain to me. I for some reason love the idea of Luigi and Daisy and forced myself to write a little sumthin' sumthin' for them.**

**Why should Mario get all the play?**

**Oh and please note that this is a prolouge. PROLOUGE. Meaning it is quite short, but its just to get the ball rolling. So don't expect some majore character development and explotions and the whole nine yards? kay? FABULOUS.**

* * *

Its 12:00 Pm. A grey scale sky is hanging delicately above the sidewalks carved in silver. There is this annoying constant stream of water escaping onto the Mario bro's lawn via a lopsided drainpipe.

It is going to be a beautiful day.

Luigi Mario is being completely serious in his feelings. He loves days like this, where the setting outside is peaceful and serene, where the smell emanating through the house whenever someone opens the side door is fresh and earthy. He loves to sit alone in his room with all of the lights out and daydream to a score of sweet, tuneful rain taps.

Mario is usually over at the Toadstool castle, incase that isn't a well-known thing by now. The princess with her blue eyes and fair hair and just about every other feature being classically fair as well, always invites him over so they can spend time together.

It must be nice.

It must be nice having someone to peice in that other gap that one human soul alone cannot fill. It really must be nice to have a person who makes you feel a live.

Or atleast someone to talk to, someone to tell all your dreams to- and someone to fill those countless hours you spend, say; sitting in a room littered with empty soda pop bottles and pizza boxes, infested with probably every creature in existance; playing one mean game of halo after another.

Luigi stops himself. He doesn't like to think like that. As far as he's concerned he has just as full a life as anybody. He has a deep intellectual side and a sizeable list of hobbies. He can race go-karts like nobody's business. And just where would Mario be without brother number two wearing the sidekick overalls?

He doesn't feel bad in the least. It doesn't make him feel inferior at all. He is definitely not lonely.

A sudden thrashing outside stirs his semi-psychotic innerthoughts just before they have a chance to eat him up.

A frenzied symphony of lightning and thunder brings the world to its knees and lights up the dismul, watercolor atmosphere.

He has a closet happiness for a moment that he lives a quiet life and is sitting in the calm of his home enjoying this.

….and not being out in it of course.

"Mario had better get home before it gets any worse out there." Luigi says to himself, only slightly concerned that he has no one else to talk to.

He sits on his bed for a few minutes, unable to think of anything to do with himself. He drums his knees, kicks his feet, and hums songs to himself.

"Actually, I could go over to Peach's castle if I wanted to. I mean, I am her friend and all." He says out loud, again forgetting that he is speaking to no one.

He knows how little fun that would be though. He doesn't want to watch his older brother glowering in any more happiness. They weren't really a trio anymore since Mario up and realized he wasn't a playboy and that Peach, however naïve at times, was all he needed to be satisfied.

"I want to be satisfied." Luigi says, again, to thin air.

"but I'm not…"

He sighs deeply, and lies down. There is little else to do but take an early mid-afternoon nap.

More rain continues to douse the beautifully dangerous thunderstorm tapestry…

* * *

**Notice I said soda pop. I am infact a complete neo-nazi about that. It irks me beyond any reasonable realm of thought to hear people say "pop" in reference to a carbonated drink. It is SODA.**

**Don't ask.**


End file.
